What I Learned During a 30day Running Challenge

A month ago, I undertook a personal task - to run every day (at least 5km) for a month.  Rain or shine, regardless of how I was feeling.  In that month, I travelled for fun and went out in rain, sleet and snow, I ran in -20 degree days and oppressive heat, putting a little over 218kms/130+ miles onto my shoes. My distance varied daily on purpose, and I tried not to run my daily minimum 5kms on consecutive days, and likewise wouldn't run my maximum  - which was about 14kms -  back to back.

First off - I did it.  :)

It's worth noting that I'm a casual runner anyway, this wasn't my first foray into what I was doing. I've
done a couple marathon's and about a dozen half -  marathons and am signed up for the next one of those in May this year.  Any given run can be wonderful, painful, an emotional blackhole, or as I heard someone say yesterday - make you feel like you're a bag of milk - or it can make you dance.  I think over the past month I've had at least one of each of those and a few of some.  Running is like a box of chocolates, as Mr Gump might say, you never know what you're going to get.  Just run, Forest, just run.

The running itself became easier, as I guess the strength in my legs increased.  That was a pleasant surprise.  There's more than a few days that I don't recall the running part of the run, which given the task at hand is a little surprising. While I tried a second workout on about a quarter of the days, it always came back to me on the next day's run as a really strong feeling of fatigue. Overall however the running part of the running challenge got better.

The route choices were tiresome, as I grew bored with the places I'd run repeatedly.  I became an avid user of MayMyRun to find that 6, 8 or 12 km path that was a little new.  Wind and therefore direction was a concern as I mentioned that at least two weeks of this was quite cold, varying between -5 and -20 with strong winds. Routing choices to avoid large open areas where I'd have to run into the wind factored largely into the daily decision.  Snow too affected where I went, as we have some lovely trails near me, however snow covered, or (worse) water saturated mud isn't really nice to run through.

Injury was ever-present in my mind - I wasn't running to outpace Usain Bolt or anything, but I did track my pace daily and wanted to see some improvement.  So I was careful, perhaps moreso than I normally am.  I'd stop and walk 20 paces if I felt anything amiss.

Technology was helpful as I track my distance, speed etc with two devices and my little old ipod nano with it's Nike app was key to the success of this.  It's screen is broken, and it congratulates me on another 500km accomplished after every single complete effort (which I secretly enjoy), but I can get lost in the podcast, or music and the last half-a-km audible warning is always welcome.

Importantly, I think I could keep going if I wanted.  My legs, and back are tired and need a day or two off but it's not a must-stop.  That's probably for me the biggest single reward in all of this - the knowledge that if I wanted to, I could continue this. Our own hidden reserves of capability are all too often invisible to us.

The most interesting thing I picked up was the surety that this activity is cathartic for me.  Yes, some mornings I couldn't get the sound of my own wheezy breath out of my conscious mind, but the best runs allowed me to deconstruct an issue or problem I needed to think through, my body on autopilot as I could focus into the moment and think clearly, or listen clearly, or even just be in the moment knowing I was lucky to be able to be doing what I was doing just then.  I had a few of those days in the past month, and that made this all worthwhile.

Dear Dave & Morley...

I've been fumbling, starting then stopping, and putting off the writing of this letter for a little while, as I'm not quite sure how to write it, or how to say what needs to be said. A letter is both a personal communication and an hierloom that can be revisited numerous times in one's life, kept in a drawer or cabinet and relived time and again.  It's also a story telling device that shares our authors thoughts and feelings, joy - and in my case anguish, over what news I feel I need to share.

Dear Dave & Morley I'd begin, and let the sentence trail-off in my head.  I'd heard Stuart start many stories this way, and always appreciated the depth of character he'd uncover in the telling.

He was good at that - good at using a covering imagery like the history of a town in Cape Breton, or the writing of a letter to a neighbour's son to curl around us, engaging our curiosity into the details that he vividly painted into our ears and embraced our imaginations with.  We were drawn in until we were so deeply sunk into his narrative that we missed a set-up  - until it was sitting on us, smiling down like a cheshire cat and Stuart's voice would deepen and lift at the same time, cueing us to notice the situation, or the character's reaction, or the absurdity of where we'd all gone.  Together. And he'd pause.

People remember that he made them laugh. Hilariously so, about turkey's, a drip from a lightbulb onto our forehead, or even Dave's hypochondria.  They recall the sweet little tears he brought out as he unearthed someone's empathy, kind spirit, or resilience -  illustrating it poignantly, helping us all recognize those same feelings in ourselves. Without doubt he touched many people. Stuart taught us about parenting, our own fears and anxieties, and life in our own communities through his invitation to the Cafe and the adventures of Dave, Steph, Sam and Morley.  The key was his voice, wistful and knowing. Richly rhythmic with stunning timing and the expert knowledge of how to say ..... nothing, drawing out our anticipation in knowing smiles and pre-laughter. Listen yourself to a few stories, and you'll see.  But I digress... Dear Dave and Morley, I have some news.

There are an estimated 400+ stories, about the universe that Stuart created and I can't say that I've heard them all.  There's a great big board the way I imagine it - with names, dates, places and relationships linked all together, probably with yarn.  Otherwise how could he have kept it all straight. As we listened it was those little details, Morley's love of figure skating, or characters from his hometown in Cape Breton when growing up with Annie, or the neighbours running the shops next to the Cafe, like Kenny Wong and his Scottish Meat Pies that made it all come to life.  There's a depth to these tales that binds them together and would have allowed for the next story, and the next one and the next. Only there won't be a next one. Dear Dave and Morley, I have some news. Some bad news...

As I sat and turned over on the ideas of what I needed to pass along, days drew long as I stumbled time and time again.  How do you tell someone that their world changed and they had no future  At the same time how do we share the tremendous gratitude that you deeply feel, that so many feel for the times spent together. It's an end, as surely and completely as an end ever was, but at the same time it's a time to acknowledge the hours spent together, and the moments we were assembled as one in laughter, sadness and life's precious lessons.

Dear Dave And Morley,  I re-started, I have some news. Some bad news.  But you're going to be fine, in fact we're all going to be fine as we still have one another.  It seems that...........

It is I'd hope, all that Stuart would have asked for.

______________________________

Stuart McLean was the host and creator of The Vinyl Cafe on CBC Radio.  On a weekly basis he created the worlds that Dave, Morley, Sam, Stephanie and countless others inhabited and allowed the rest of us to visit, observe and learn from. Luckily for us, Stuart was prolific.  Stuart passed away on Feb 15th, 2017.

The Vinyl Cafe can be visited still, and it's a worthwhile way to hear how well stories can be told.